Moment of Clarity
by Trilliah
Summary: Frodo reflects on his feelings for Sam. *non-slash* no plot, just an angsty POV


Title: This moment  
  
Author: Trilliah  
  
Genre: Drama/Angst (What else? ;)  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Characters: Frodo Sam  
  
Summary: Frodo reflects. *No slash*  
  
Feedback: Much needed and desired!!! I'll love you forever!!! Please???  
  
Disclaimer: They're not mine! Honest! I'm not making any money from them, either! Please don't sue!!  
  
  
  
A/n: I'm going to warn you right now: this isn't very good. Well, to be honest, it kinda sucks. And it's really pretty pointless. SO—should you decide to continue reading, fine, but the rule is: please no flames—after all, I *did* warn you. Okay? Okay. (  
  
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There are moments in life when things become, in the space of a breath, utterly clear.  Doubts, questions, uncertainties—all are washed away in an instant of pristine simplicity that shines so deeply and so bright that you know you must have been blind not to see it before.  Though these moments are few, they are staggering in their power.

  
Such a moment came for me, Sam, the instant your head vanished from sight beneath the clear cold waters of the Anduin.  It was then I knew you for what you'd always been: my brother, my best friend, my very heart and soul.

It was then I knew I loved you more than anything in this world.   
  
Oh, I'd always known I was *fond* of you, don't get me wrong. Ever since you were nothing more than a knee-high scrap of curly hair and brown eyes following your dear old Gaffer about the gardens of Bag End, looking for all the world as though you'd slipped into paradise. You've always had such a love of all things alive and growing, Sam…and to see your young eyes light up at the sight of a flowerbed, your hands so gentle where other children would have trampled carelessly…it never ceased to amaze me. And while the gardens were lovely when your gaffer tended them, it wasn't until you took over that I truly began to appreciate their beauty.

I wonder that I did not see it then.  
  
The indulgent fondness I'd kept for you as a child grew into a friendship as you aged, and for a brief, perfect time during out childhood I thought things would never change. But with age came a new awareness, and with that awareness, a new problem: you were now treating me as a servant treats his master. I was no longer "Frodo" to you; no, I'd become "Mr. Frodo." And try as I might, I couldn't get you to keep seeing me as your equal. For equals we always were in my heart, Sam.  But your manners persisted, and despite all my efforts, we began to drift apart. There was a chasm opened between us: a deep void of separation born of 'class' and 'station'.  Oh, how I loathe the words, Sam; they took you away from me.  I was a well-to-do lad, heir of the richest and most eccentric—and therefore, most legendary—hobbit in the shire. And you…you were the son of a gardener. Class was introduced to me harshly with the loss of my best friend. I hated it, Sam. And while I didn't know it then, my heart was being broken anew each time the word "Mr." came out of your mouth. The closeness we used to share faded as the weight of formality settled almost imperceptibly around us, and while we still talked and laughed together, there would be no more of the carefree days spent lounging in the shire sun or playing together under the whispering trees in the orchard.  
  
We were growing up, Sam. And how I hated it.  
  
Then, for a time, things seemed to get better. With my consistent urging, you began to relax a bit, even going so far as to occasionally drop the "Mr." when you addressed me. Some of the old bond we used to share was awakened; not as much as I'd have liked, but it was enough.  
  
Then one fateful night Gandalf came back to the shire after being gone for seventeen years. He spoke of darkness and evil; of this cursed thing I now wear round my neck. I was frightened, yes, but as Aragorn would later declare, not nearly frightened enough. Had I known, then, what lay in store for me, I probably would have thrown the ring into the nearest river and remained locked in Bag End for the rest of my days.  
  
But thankfully, I did not have to guard the small seed of courage within me alone. You accompanied me, skillfully tending it until it grew and blossomed into something I never knew I possessed. When you paused outside Farmer Maggot's corn fields, admitting to me in a trembling voice your fear of venturing so far from all that was familiar, I felt my own fear diminish as I smiled and urged you on. The bonds of friendship had been rekindled, and they were beginning to burn to their former glory. And with them came a fierce protectiveness that nearly overwhelmed me at first but then strengthened me. I was frightened, yes, but it was *my* burden to bear; you did not have to come, but you did. For this, I would be forever grateful, and for this I *would* protect you.  
  
Laughable as that sounds now, Sam, it is what went through my mind when you admitted your fear of leaving the Shire. I would protect you if I could; shelter you from danger and harm and fear. I wanted to, Sam, but somehow danger found us anyway, and more often than not the tables would flip and *you* were protecting *me*.  
  
That first black rider, the one that came upon us while you and Merry and Pippin were gathering mushrooms…I don't know what came over me, but suddenly the urge to put on the ring was so *powerful…* Even with Gandalf's warning ringing in my ears, I was certain I would not be able to resist its pull. The others didn't know the danger; didn't even seem to be aware of my struggle. But even with Pippin blocking your view of me, you sensed it. You reached across him and grabbed my jacket, and at your touch the spell was broken.  
  
*Already you had saved me.*  
  
Then in Bree, when Strider had me in that room…Merry and Pippin at least brandished weapons of some sort, but you…my dear Sam, you had nothing but your own fists as you staunchly challenged the sword-bearing Ranger well over twice your size. Strider had drawn his sword at the sound of your approach, and I was stricken for a moment with a fear so paralyzing that I could barely breathe. *He won't hurt you he won't he can't no no not Sam please don't hurt him not my best friend not my Sam please no…* But then Strider sheathed his sword and praised your courage, and I could breathe again.  
  
On Weathertop that fear returned.  
  
*Back, you Devils!! *  
  
You were the first to challenge the ringwraiths, while the rest of us cowered behind you, though what you hoped you could do I do not know. I don't think you did, either; but in your mind I always came first and you would *not* stand aside to see me harmed.  
  
They swatted you aside as easily as if you were naught but a fly; and I suppose to them you were just that. When you fell against that rock, Sam, and didn't move…had the ringwraiths not attacked the rest of so suddenly after that I would have been at your side in an instant. As it was, the next thing I remembered was pain, searing pain in my shoulder, and instead you were at *my* side, taking my hand and brushing my hair from my face as you desperately sought some way to help me, to comfort me.

*Oh, Sam!*

 My weak cry to you was not, as you obviously believed, an imploring one; rather it was a cry of gratitude. Just *being* there helped me, comforted me; whether you knew it or not. And when Gandalf told me in Rivendell you'd been by my side for three days without food or sleep…I felt nearly happy enough to cry. I managed to hold my emotions in check until Gandalf and Elrond had left, but then I *did* break down. They were tears of joy—tears of relief. We'd made it, you and I. We were alive. And then you held me and whispered words of comfort to me and we cried together, and whatever formality had done to our closeness, it was undone in that moment.  
  
*My best friend was back.*  
  
Even then, Sam, I couldn't see what should have been painfully obvious to me. You volunteered—nay, demanded—to accompany me on my journey, though you knew well enough how perilous it was going to be. The journey, the watcher, the cave troll…you were there by my side, always the first to try and protect me, though often there was little you could do. And your sorrow when you thought me dead, coupled with your relief when you discovered otherwise, filled my heart yet *still* I did not see.  
  
*"He's alive."*  
  
Something in your voice made me turn my head. You were gazing at me, eyes brimming with tears, though if they were left over from your former grief or newly formed at your relief and joy I could not say; and your hand, so gentle on my arm as you checked to see if I was truly all right, was all I could have hoped for.  
  
A Elbereth, why am I such a fool? If only I'd seen then what I know now…perhaps I could have avoided this. How often did I have the opportunity? When I saw you in that mirror, chained and being whipped by some brute of an orc…it was too much. I think I had some idea then, though my mind still could not see it, of what you truly meant to me. But fool that I am, I made the wrong decision.  
  
*To bear a ring of power is to be alone.*  
  
I believed her…but I forgot her words to us earlier:  
  
*Yet hope remains, while the company is true.*  
  
She was looking at you when she said it, and a more obvious clue she couldn't have given me…but as I said, my mind can be stubborn, and to me you were still just my friend. I could not lead you into danger any more than I could the others…I had to leave you behind. Or so I thought. But she knew it then: what bound us together was more than friendship.  
  
It was brotherhood.  
  
And you don't leave your brother to face the world in all its danger alone.  
  
This you've shown me all too clearly, and the experience of nearly losing you has been all the reality check I've needed.  
  
I tried to leave you, Sam…I told you to go back, I knew as well as you did that you couldn't swim…yet you pursued me. I sat and watched in horror as the water quickly rose from your knees to your chest, and I swear my heart stopped beating when you disappeared with no more than a small cry and a hand reaching desperately in my direction. You've always been terrified of water, Sam, and yet you followed me still. I don't think I've ever been as frightened as I was during those long minutes it took me to row back to you and seek you out in the waters. All I could think was that it was happening again. I'd lost my parents to the endless depths of cold, clear waters, and now I was going to lose my best friend as well…  
  
*No!*  
  
You know, for the moment when I clasped your hand and it remained limp, I seriously considered throwing myself in after you and letting the waters swallow us both. I didn't deserve to live, if I couldn't save the one person who'd cared for me enough to sacrifice his life for my sake. Your love for me was boundless, I knew it then. And it was nearly the death of you. I thank Elbereth that it wasn't, for I know I would never have been able to live with that, even if I had carried on. But as I sit here in this boat holding you, shaking and weeping and sopping wet but *alive*, I know what should have been clear to me since the beginning.  
  
I love you, Sam. I tried to leave you, and for this I ask you to forgive me. Because I know now that you could not have borne it any more than I could have borne you drowning. I see it now. We *need* each other, you and I. We're bound in bonds of friendship, brotherhood, and love that run deeper than any dangers, stronger than any foes, more powerful than any petty separation of class or education or wealth.  
  
I'm going to Mordor, Sam. And I'm not going alone.  
  
I pull away from you and meet your determined gaze. "Come on," is all I can say, but the small smile that forms on your face is enough to tell me that you understand. You know I've finally figured it out.  
  
We belong together, you and I.  And so together we shall stay.  As long as we're together, we'll be all right.  
  
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End file.
